We want real contrition for our abuse

There is nothing surprising in the obtuseness of the Most Rev Vincent Nichols's remarks on the report about child sex abuse in Ireland's Catholic institutions (Clergy who admit abuse 'courageous' - archbishop, 21 May). It is entirely of a piece with the fact that the English Catholic hierarchy have made no statement about, nor set up an independent inquiry into, the possibility of child sex abuse in Catholic institutions in England, despite the fact that it is inconceivable that the church in England should have completely escaped the practices that have been shown to be endemic in the churches in the US and Ireland. I do not believe the church has any concern for the victims of the child sex abuse that has taken place and instead is primarily concerned to limit the damage to itself.

I grew up in a working-class parish in London in the 40s and 50s. Between the ages of 10 and 14, I was first carefully groomed and then regularly abused by a Scoutmaster (an apparently respected member of the parish). There were many other boys affected, and other adults were involved. I believe there were suspicions, but nothing was done. About a year after it ended for me, I spoke about it to a priest in a neighbouring parish. His response was that the man had possibly stopped, therefore it was better to do nothing. I did not take it further - for me to speak once was traumatic enough.

I have never recovered from what happened and the effects from it, combined with the curse of the "teaching" on sexuality that the church gave, have affected my relations with both men and women throughout my life, and, in the end, destroyed my marriage. The church does not need courage to face what has taken place, but real contrition and deep regret.Name and address supplied

Abuse of children was the norm in Catholic educational institutions in Ireland throughout the 50s, 60s and 70s, not the exception. Catholic parents were told suffering would help their children into heaven. I remember the small bumps on the back of my head where nuns would hit me, always leading with the ring finger, I was locked in a cupboard so I would know what the dark hole was like before entering the fires of hell.

November was the cutoff time for speaking English at "Ring College" (my Irish-speaking boarding school) and when the beatings began. The first term of my third year there, I was beaten every day until my mother stepped in, sometimes 20 on each hand for offences like speaking English, talking after lights out, not eating all my dinner, talking to girls. When my hands got used to the beatings the "nurse" would hit me across the wrists with her leather, keeping her head so still the ash rarely fell off her cigarette, cancer finished her off in the early 80s.

My secondary school had friar Father Ronald Bennett, who in 2006 was convicted of sexually abusing boys during his 30 years there. The Most Rev Vincent Nichols thinks it takes courage for these members of the clergy to face up to their past. Absolute rubbish! They were bullies who terrified innocent children, and their tears deserve no sympathy.Richard LaniganThames Ditton, Surrey

Among all the understandable reactions to the scale of abuse in the Irish church, we should perhaps ask why it happened on such a massive scale. During the 19th century the English ignored the indigent Irish and refused them a government of their own. They therefore looked to their church for education, healthcare, social security and a sense of national identity. Consequently the church became their de facto government, invested with considerable power and authority. In an institution without the democratic checks and balances necessary for the responsible exercise of such power, this inevitably led to corruption and the maintenance of power becoming an end in itself.

At the same time, as a consequence of the economic backwardness of Ireland, again the fault of the English government, there were few employment opportunities other than emigration or the church, the latter increasingly offering the opportunity to be part of the most powerful institution in the land. Not surprisingly many unsuitable people, with flawed vocations or none at all, went into the priesthood or religious communities; many were unwillingly forced into the latter by their families anxious to get them off their hands. The church remained unhealthily powerful even after independence, and remained an attractive employment opportunity until Ireland's economy started to grow in the second half of the last century. There are lessons in this for both church and state.James CrawfordLondon

As a solicitor representing victims of child abuse, particularly in the Catholic church, I am completely unsurprised by the comments from Vincent Nichols, the new Archbishop of Westminster. As Archbishop of Birmingham he fought legal claims by child abuse victims tooth and nail, delaying justice for many years. Moreover, even when legal claims have succeeded in the courts he has been unwilling to apologise for the archdiocese's failings. His mask may have slipped publicly for the first time, but for Nichols this contempt for victims and unwillingness to learn lessons is par for the course.Richard ScorerHebden Bridge, West Yorkshire

The letter by Professor Richard Green (22 May) highlights one of the important reasons that the church was able to allow the horrific abuse to occur. He says the thought of his own son, the same age as the patient was when the abuse started, reduced him to tears. The nature of the priesthood and religious orders, and their celibacy, removed them from the normal feelings of anyone with a family and made them unable to deal with emotions. There is also the dreadful air of superiority that the Catholic hierarchy display to us "ordinary mortals" who live normal lives. This perversion of Christianity has reaped the most appalling consequences.Ann LynchSkipton, North Yorkshire